


Chocolate Cherry Cupcakes

by Iflyinmydreams (orphan_account), WhoIUsedToBe (orphan_account)



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Cupcakes, Forgotten Love, Hanahaki Disease, Love, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mystery, Song: Hallelujah, Unfinished, Unrequited Love, Willing to finish if enough interest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-12 23:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21484363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Iflyinmydreams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/WhoIUsedToBe
Summary: I found this never before posted piece in my files and thought it was beautiful. L has confusing flashes of a person he does not know, but feels like he should and embarks on a mission to find him.
Relationships: L/Yagami Light
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

It came with a sudden abruptness, like the sensation you're falling in a dream and as you begin to scream, you're suddenly jolted awake. Lying there in bed, breathing fast and shallow, L couldn't place the dream. _Who was that?_ All that kept repeating were amber eyes and this intense feeling of…. Being known. That's all that could be explained of it.

Rising out of bed with a shiver, L decided to get on with the day. Maybe Watari would know. It was bizarre; L felt different but couldn't place why. Having lived an isolated and strange existence, it seemed reasonable to feel a kind of dissonance now and again. But this was different. This was new. It was like something was missing, but what?

Swatting blindly at the nightstand, L located his cell phone and sent a text to Watari, 'Are you up? Coffee and a quick chat before business?'

'Ok’ was the basic reply.

Throwing on the customary white t-shirt and jeans, L went through the basic morning routine as to be presentable and bearable when in the presence of other humans and then headed downstairs. Watari would probably be in the HQ kitchen. With any luck, Watari would already have an abundance of pastries at the ready.

L was not disappointed. Gathering a plateful, L sighed up at Watari, ,”I am continuing to have that dream.”

“The one with the young man with the unusual hair and eyes?”

“Yes.”

“Strange that it recurs. The sleep aid isn't helping?”

“No,” L looked down at the pastries, then back up, “it's more than that though. I think…I think he's out there.”

“What makes you say that?” Watari was stirring his cup of coffee, taking test sips intermittently.

“My intuition? I don't know.” L looked down again. “Can't we at least try to find him? Humor me?”

Watari sighed. L never showed interest in other people unless they were suspects in a case and even then it wasn't personal. This was the first time it was personal. Watari tried to hide his hesitation. “Sure,” he didn't like lying to L, but lately that seemed to be all he did. L's mind was still far too fragile to know the truth, to remember. Perhaps when he had built a little emotional fortitude…Watari swallowed hard at the prospect. L would never forgive him, never trust him again. He hoped L would at least understand.

They moved on to their desks and started up their respective computers. The team slowly filtered in, and just like every morning, L felt as though he were waiting for two more members to show up, but there was no one. Their team consisted of Aizawa, who always came in first and seemed angry about it, Mogi, who always came in second and was silent, and third came Matsuda, young and stupid and loud and always bringing in his own coffee. L glanced back at the door, nearly expecting it to open again. He swore two more people would enter. He was almost certain of it. But the question remained; _who_?

It was frustrating and distracting, feeling this way. Sometimes when L reached for his coffee or a stack of papers, he swore he heard the slink of a chain across the floor. Always he'd look, and never it’d be there. I'm going insane, he thought. Sometimes whispers echoed in his mind of a voice he didn't know and yet somehow knew so well. Maybe it was sleep deprivation finally catching up to him.

He stood, announcing about halfway through the work day that he was retiring to his room. It garnered many puzzled looks but no objections. As he approached the stairs he grabbed his wrist with his other hand. It had felt heavy and as if something were around his wrist, but when he looked, nothing was there. _What is wrong with me?_

Back in his room, he threw himself on his bed and yawned loudly into his pillow. His exhausted body melted into the sheets, and it didn't take long for sleep to overtake him. Strangely, he felt arms embrace him, holding him lovingly there in the bed. They were strong and familiar and smelled of something almost sweet. _Who are you?_ He wanted to ask, but his lips were far too tired to form words. He reached out to touch the face of the one holding him, only to awaken to nothing. Nobody was there.

Confused and sleepy, L laid back down. So many things seemed wrong. The team seemed wrong, the investigation seemed wrong, even he seemed wrong. Incomplete, like something were missing. At times he felt mixed up in his own body, like it was foreign to him. He'd catch glimpses of himself in the mirror fresh out of the shower and think for a moment he was looking at someone else. It took his mind a moment to register just who it was staring back at him.

When L next woke, it was evening. The entire day had passed while he was sleeping. One would think he’d wake up feeling refreshed, but no. He was still quite deep in the negative as far as owing himself sleep went. He checked his phone. Texts and missed calls from Watari. Nothing too important. One checking up on him and the other regarding minor details in the case. Aizawa and Matsuda had gone out on a lead. Somehow L knew that would be a fruitless endeavor.

His stomach growled. Guess pastries weren't enough to satisfy him quite all day. The team would be gone by now, home to their families, their lives. An emptiness settled inside him as he drew himself up from the bed and forced his way downstairs. He didn't have that, he never had. Perhaps he couldn't miss what he never had and yet…somehow he longed for it?

The only thing he heard on his way to the kitchen were the echoes of his soft footsteps as he padded down the stairs. The air had a coolness to it, but the chill he felt came from within. It was that same old loneliness which beckoned to him. His only friend. Why did he suddenly feel so emotional? What was it he missed so much? He felt as though something had been torn from him. Something precious and rare. But what? He drew his fist up to his chest as he swallowed a sob. Perhaps food could fix this. Perhaps low blood sugar was bringing all this on.

As he reached into the fridge to plate a leftover cupcake, he felt more than heard the words, “I love you,” blow by him as though on a breeze. He whipped his head around, dropping his cupcake. Nobody was there. Only darkness and the disappointing smash of frosting on the bottom of the refrigerator. Frowning, he picked up the cupcake and wiped the frosting with a finger. It was ugly now but surely it all tasted the same.

Hunger won over manners and basic civility as he kneeled in the open door and stuffed the cupcake in his mouth. He closed his eyes and 'mmmmm'd' to the flavor of chocolate and cherries bursting in his mouth. He swore he heard laughter in the background, but he didn't look this time. He didn't care. But something flashed in front of him. A picture. A bright sunny day and a quilt and a shady tree with cupcakes and… him.

L opened his eyes, startled. He coughed a bit on the dryness of the cake and rummaged for some milk as he realized it was a memory. How could he have forgotten a moment so sweet? An occasion so joyous? He knew where that tree was, as well. It was an old oak tree centered in the gardens at Wammy's. But when had he been there of late? This didn't make any sense. He hadn't been there. Was it just a dream? A culmination of memories and pieces of his childhood coming together to form a painting creatively disguised as a memory but actually was a lie? And who was that boy? That beautiful boy with the auburn hair and golden eyes. He looked so alive in the warm glow of the setting sun.

L was wrong about his blood sugar. He was wrong about his emotions. Feeling overwhelmed as he sat there on his knees, he allowed the dam to bust and he wept. The only witness to his shameful act a leftover salad, can of soda, half gone carton of milk, and the last remaining cupcake. He would eat that final cupcake, hoping for another flood of memories, but it would not deliver. He would attempt to wash away his shame with the remainder of the milk but that wouldn't work either. Eventually, the fridge would beep its annoyance at having been left open too long, and L would have to concede.

Standing, he glanced through the door and to the dim glow of the computer monitor in the next room. That symbolic Gothic L glowed eerily in the night like a warning. It called to him, a siren of its own accord. Come and seek and perhaps you will find what you are looking for. So he did. He sat in the chair before it and took a deep breath. He would find this mystery person. They couldn't exist in his mind alone.


	2. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L hears strange music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this delivers. I'm exhausted and going to bed but I wanted to update SOMETHING.

The glow of the tiny lights strung along the banister were the only thing to guide L's wavering feet as they attempt their descent. They’d never get anywhere if he kept stopping, however, to contemplate the strange feeling inside his belly. If sadness were a thing you could ingest to fill you and then make you feel sick inside, L must’ve eaten it at some point that day. 

Every team member had worn an ugly sweater or silly hat to work as well. Matsuda's ridiculous reindeer antlers jingled the most delicate of bells and L couldn't help but shiver every time he heard it. An assortment of Christmas cookies was not enough to satiate the abrasion of the Christmas music against L's ears that Watari insisted would lend a festive feel to their otherwise drab little office. Though his face portrayed no outward emotion, L felt lit within, somehow appalled at the sheer audacity they had to celebrate their annual joy and happiness. There was no sure reason behind his reaction, no sensible cause, but he hated it. Wanted it to die by way of train or brick pulling it to the ocean floor.

Excusing himself before the internal metaphorical fire became an external actual fire, L had gone to his room. In the darkness of it, alone and no longer exposed, he shouldn't have been surprised to feel wetness when he touched his face. It didn't make any sense, but then again, nothing really did as of late. Somehow, hours passed in that dark place, and he could sense by some other worldly power that he was alone in the building. He'd built it with twenty six fully furnished floors and every imaginable accommodation so that he wouldn't have to be alone. Yet here he stood, knowing, _knowing_ they'd all left and his efforts were entirely in vain. What a stupid man he turned out to be after all. Oh, the irony of it.

So why did he hear the tiniest whisper of Hallelujah echoing down the hall toward him? Why was it beautiful? Why was it haunting? Entranced by the sirens call, L obediently stepped forward, a shuffle, an unsteady weave down the hall and toward the stairs. This was now where he found himself, hesitating in the middle of that staircase, staring at the lights, wondering why they evoked such emotion within him. 

Some mysteries would never be solved, and he shook his head to clear it as he refocused on the music growing steadily louder with every footstep toward it. The bottom of the staircase greeted him indifferently with its slate, shiny surface. L never came to this floor. Right? He didn't know. He thought not but now that he was here, maybe he'd been here before.

_“You know there was a secret chord David played, and it pleased the Lord…”_

“Who is singing?” L whispered out loud to himself if only to check that he was still really there, still really alive and breathing and warm with a pulse to continue this journey. Turning his thoughts internal, he heard himself breathing, a slight tremble to his hands as he approached a door cracked just enough to let the light within stream through. A hand upon it, L pushed, and standing in the threshold L couldn't quite absorb what his eyes landed upon within the room. No amount of astonished blinking made it seem anymore real and yet, here it was before him, assaulting every sense. How then could it not be real?

“_She tied you to her kitchen chair,”_ he began belting now, “_She broke your throne and she cut your hair!”_  
That beautiful auburn haired boy sat behind a black Grand piano and hammered out the melody as he sang perfectly, eyes closed and body weaving to the music. It was the most gorgeous display L had ever seen in his life.

“_But remember when I moved in you_  
_And the holy dove was moving too_  
_And every breath we drew was Hallelujah”_

Why did that lyric ring so true to him in that moment? Why was it painful? He'd known the song longer than he could recall when he first heard it. It never held significance in his life before. He wasn't a religious man. 

The boy didn't stop playing, but he opened amber eyes and locked a steely gaze with L's as he continued in his ballad. “_Well, baby I've been here before. I've seen this room, I've walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew ya_.”

It seemed he could see right through L. He was singing his innermost thoughts, fears. Frozen in place, L involuntarily inhaled a sharp, painful breath. “Light,” is what he breathed out.

“L, what are you doing here?” the voice was not the boys. It was deeper, older, and from behind. L whirled around to meet Watari's gaze, the scene before him shattering and when he turned back into the doorway, the room was dark and empty, the music gone.

“I… I don’t know, Watari.”

“Sleep walking again?”

“I suppose I must be.”

“Well, do try to get back to sleep, L. Goodnight,” Watari said with a nod of his head. Turning rigidly as the old man does, he nearly marched off in his way of walking. Proper, always.

L made his way over to the staircase and the moment his foot hit that first step he heard, “_And it's not a cry you can hear at night. It’s not somebody who has seen the light. It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.”_

He took a step.

_"Hallelujah...." _

And then another.

_"Hallelujah..."_

And in that moment L felt those words in a way he never thought a lyric could be felt. But for him, there would be no Hallelujah and he wondered if there ever was. If there ever could be. Looking up the daunting staircase with its haunting lights full of secrets he was sure he'd never know, L sighed and dropped his gaze, walking back to his room, the sadness rushing back through his body like a tide.

The music ended.


	3. If only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watari confesses

“Sir, may I ask what you're doing?”  Watari , the ever proud, sometimes pompous, didn't want to make assumptions as he stood erect in the doorway. 

Grumbling something as shirts and shampoo bottles all were tossed to occupy the same space, L stopped.  For all his genius, he couldn't figure out why toiletries were packed separately from everything else. Perhaps he'd find out.  Without turning to face the old man, L stated, “I'm checking myself into a mental health facility.”

“Oh .” It wasn't a surprised 'oh’, but perhaps an amused one. And if L had turned around to face the old man, perhaps he'd see the sparkle of humor in his eyes as his mustache twitched in an attempt to hold back a laugh. 

Resuming his haphazard attempt at packing, L continued in his explanation. “I'm having both visual and auditory hallucinations. I am unwell, it would seem.”  In his quest to figure out what was wrong with him, L had stumbled upon the information that he was at the prime age for schizophrenia to rear its ugly head.  Perhaps stress had triggered it. Could he be having a break from reality?  It seemed entirely possible to him. 

Slamming the suitcase shut with both hands was necessary, as it seemed he may have over packed.  They both ignored the muffled sound of something busting within the plastic chamber, and L latched it shut ,  triumphant .  Heaving the cumbersome case from the bed, he turned to  Watari . With a nod, “ Please excuse me.”

Stepping aside,  Watari tried to think of the best way to tell L the truth. He wasn't unwell.  Perhaps, in the end, he thought, it was best to just come right out with it. “You aren't sick, L.” He said it with such authority and yet the trepidation was still there. “We need to talk,” he offered slowly, sadness lacing his lovely English voice.

L dropped the suitcase and turned to the old man, attempting not to seem displeased with him.  It would appear that  Watari had been keeping secrets from him. L wondered how painful the truth would be.  How deep would it cut to know the things his most trusted friend knew? “Lead the way.”

They both f ou nd themselves sitting upon the plush, dark leather furniture of  Watari's personal office. It was a warm place full of books and whiskey and cigars.  A large clock told the time with a deep bellow of its own, and the only thing that could make the place feel more like a story book would be a fire in the fireplace.

“L,  you are not hallucinating. You are _ remembering,”  _ Watari finally said after sitting at his desk contemplating the necessity of alcohol at this early morning hour.

“Remembering what?”

“It may be best if  I show you.  I'm unsure.”  Watari eyed his whiskey. Not if he had to drive, but the temptation was strong. “I know you'll be angry with me, but you should know these were your wishes.  You had a procedure.”

“Procedure?” Why did that  sound incredibly ominous?

“Yes. At your request,  you had a procedure done to save your life, but it seems that it is causing you problems. Or rather, your mind is too strong, and so is your bond.”

“Why does it feel like  you’re speaking in code?”

Watari sighed, “You made me promise not to tell you.  But it seems  I must. L, the boy you've been imagining is Light  Yagami , and he is your soul mate. You were together, and the visions you've been having are memories of your time together.”

The shock settled neatly in his bones as he absorbed this information. The question rattling on his tongue demanded asking, though he feared the answer. “What happened to him?”

Watari looked down at his clasped hands. “I'll have to show you.”

The rain outside was a nice compliment to the confusion L was feeling within. He watched it pelt his window and stream by, unable to resist the force created by their forward motion. He felt like one of those raindrops, unable to resist to force of his life. It was out of his control.

The hospital appeared before him. An umbrella at his door.  Everything was dark today. At least it wasn't cold.  L was thankful that the only bitterness he would feel would be within his soul.  Could he recount his steps of he needed to?  It was so easy to get lost in the monotony of white walls and linoleum tiles.  Only the elevator broke it up. Even then, its whirring and its dinging only served to pull L from his thoughts for a moment. What floor was this? Hospice care?  Did he really want to step off this elevator? The truth was just beyond its threshold and yet L felt there was a reason he'd wanted to forget it all.

“L?”  It was enough to urge him forward. One step, then two. More monotony as he followed  Watari down the hall.

Finally, a room. 345. He'd make a joke of it if there were something to joke about anymore.  Watari pushed open the door but L wasn’t going to go in first. Gracious as always, an understanding old man took the lead. The room was not white. It was a soft brown with blue accents and flowers and pictures. There was a TV in the corner that never came on.  Machines beeped and buzzed and a young man lay in the bed, connected to them all by one thing or another. An IV, a  catheter, a breathing tube, heart monitor. One to monitor his brain activity which even to L's  untrained eye seemed limited. “What happened to him?” Finally came the question.

“We don't know. He just collapsed one day,”  Watari said. “His family is keeping him alive, but he's gone, L. I'm so sorry.”

At first there was no recognition.  His unruly auburn hair had grown down to his nose and his pretty face was masked by facial hair. Was nobody caring for him?  This was not acceptable to L and yet he didn't know why.  His fingers pushed aside those overgrown bangs before L's brain could register his own actions. “Light,” he whispered, peering closely.

Out of nowhere a vision struck L. No, a memory. It was dark and comfortable in the room they shared. The bed they laid in was host to a multitude of memories too intimate to share with anyone else.  They'd just made love.  L knew he was crying, laying himself out across the lap of the boy in the hospital bed while he recalled their nakedness and vulnerability and _ love.  _ “Light, why?” Suddenly L knew him. Knew him in a way nobody else ever would. He remembered it all, every fight, every celebration, every moment.  Most of all he remembered the way it felt to be loved, and wondered why he'd ever choose to give it up like this.  It must've been too hard, he reasoned. Seeing Light like this was too much.

L looked up at  Watari , whose face was twisted in grief.  “I remember,” L whispered through his tears. “I remember…”

He was dying too.

That was why he did it. To survive. Soul mates couldn't live on without each other. They_ always_ died together. On the rare occasion they did not, the one left living did not live for long. “Hanahaki disease. I have it, don't I?”

Watari nodded. It was dormant within him as long as his memories remained sealed. Now that they were known again, L would suffer the consequences.  L looked away from  Watari and back to Light. He didn't want to live without him anyway. He couldn't.  Maybe he could kill himself and spare himself the pain of a slow death.  If only Light would wake up. If only.


	4. Finality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of our story

They were supposed to be together for the rest of their lives. Naturally, L would've said no to a wedding and all its pageantry. Despite dramatic protests, Light would concede. Signing a marriage certificate at the court house was enough. But they'd never get to have that argument, or that glorious makeup sex after they'd stopped fighting. 

They wouldn't buy their first house or adopt their first baby. Long nights taking care of a stuffy nose or running fevers would never cross their timeline. L had coughed up blood in the hospital bathroom. Thorns. The disease was spreading quickly now that it had awakened within him. There wasn't much time left. 

Breathing labored and difficult, L made his way back to Light's side. Climbing in the bed next to him, he placed his head on Light's chest so he could hear the thrum of his heart. “Do you remember when you made me chocolate cherry cupcakes for my birthday, and you mistook the salt for sugar? They were terrible. Oh, you were so embarrassed but I had a pretty good laugh.” L reached for limp fingers and held them as though there were life in them still. “Your second attempt was much better.” Thoughtful, L gazed at their twined fingers, “Do you think it'll be like that for us after we die? That maybe the second go round will be better?” Not that L was much of a believer in reincarnation or anything, but he had to wonder. If there was an afterlife, would they be together in it? 

A coughing fit had L digging in his pockets for the tissues he'd stolen. Bloody flower petals stuck to the material in their disgusting, crumpled mess. He shivered, not feeling well at all. “I know you loved me, Light. It's time to let go of this life, though.” L's stomach turned with nausea but he refused to throw up. No, he needed to thoroughly digest his medicinal dinner and fall asleep in Light's arms. It was the only way to go. He was pretty sure that by the time the nurses figured out who stole all that medication from the dispensary cart, he'd be long gone. Nothing mattered any more anyway. Not his pain, not his turning stomach, nor the mistakes he'd made.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered, and in his intoxicated stupor he imagined Light said, “Yes.” Tears made their liquid path down his face, blotting the hospital gown adorning Lights frail body.

L knew that whatever awaited them in the next life, he'd be ready. He'd find Light again and this time he'd do it right. They had the kind of love that transcended even death, he knew. Perhaps that was the drugs talking. He wasn't sure anymore. Their bond was strong though. That much had been proven because a procedure designed to save him failed because he loved Light too much to let him go. 

Not everybody had a soul mate. Not everybody was as lucky as Light and L were. It was one thing to share your life together but to share your death? That was something reserved for the few. A staggered breath, the repeat of tireless machinery. L closed his eyes. 

In his imagination Light woke up and he got better and they both walked out of there hand in hand. They'd make it to their beach side house, toes in the sand as the sun set before them. L would twirl the silver ring on Light's left hand, an impulse to lift that hand to his mouth and bite down hard to ignore. 

Back inside, L would steal a taste of the chocolate batter and Light would swat him away. A compromise would be reached when Light handed him the spatula to lick. While the cupcakes baked, they'd make love in their bed of secrets, of promises. They could share a hundred lifetimes and still it would not be enough. 

All of this would happen in L's dream. He fell asleep to the slowing beeps of Light’s heart monitor. The sound became slower and slower the deeper he dreamed until it was nothing at all and neither was he.

Somewhere, it's Spring, and a young man sits beneath a Cherry blossom tree atop a blanket. He smiles sweetly at the one before him and says, “L, I think I love you.”

No surprise crosses his pale face. “I think I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys feel like this is a fic you'd read, let me know. I can continue it or just leave it the mystery it is. You have the power to decide! Lol.


End file.
